Chapter 36
Aspen
Somehow I got everything I've been hoping and praying for. Eli is back in my arms and as healthy as we could've ever hoped, yet I still feel like I'm missing something. I'm not an ungrateful person. I don't get handed the world and ask what else. I've never been that way, but I feel like something is absent.
I know it isn't grief that Damien's dead. I don't think I've been able to breathe as deeply as I have the last handful of hours in many, many years. There will never be a day I shed a tear for that vile bastard. I'm glad he's gone. The only reason I wish he were still alive is so I could kill him myself for the things he's done to me and Eli. I know it has everything to do with Nolan that gives me the bravery to even think such a thing.
Maybe that's it. Maybe I let myself imagine that we'd be one happy family. That Nolan, Eli, and I could just ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.
But things don't really happen that way, do they?
Life is infinitely more complicated than that.
I've barely slept. Every time Eli shifts in his sleep, I jolt awake as if someone is coming to pull him from my arms.
The notion is silly. We're safer now than we have ever been in our lives, but that doesn't stop the fear from manifesting inside of me. I have no doubt that the panic inside of me won't subside any time soon. I was at risk of losing the most important person in my life, in the most brutal of ways, and I just can't seem to accept fully that we're okay. We've never been okay. Any level of security I've felt before was an illusion, and I can't help but wonder if this is just one more misconception.
As much as I want to believe things are looking up, there's that whisper in the back of my mind warning me to be cautious, to stay vigilant.
Eli slept hard until the sun started to peek through the curtains, and he tossed and turned a little for the last couple of minutes. I have no idea how his days looked. I don't know if he was actually being taught anything or if he was simply being kept away from me.
He jolts when the door opens, and I sit up in the bed when he does, noticing how wide his eyes are, as if he's expecting something horrible to be standing in the doorway. My proximity to him allows me to feel the way a small amount of the tension in his little muscles drain from his body, but I also notice how it doesn't fully fade at the sight of Nolan standing there. He wants to trust the man, but I can tell he's struggling with it, much the same way I'm struggling with the turn of events in my life.
"Good morning," he says. "Eli, you have a visitor."
I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up, but when Nolan looks in my direction, I know it's a counselor or therapist, not someone from our past creeping up and attempting to take our son.
I open my mouth to argue. The kid needs a break.
But I don't, knowing how important his healing is. The sooner we get started on that, the happier and more carefree he can be. I need him to get to the point where his fight-or-flight mechanism doesn't kick in just because someone opened his bedroom door.
"Zara assured me you have clothes and such to change into," Nolan says, still talking to Eli. "Is that something you need help with?"
Eli shakes his head, and Nolan gives him a proud smile.
"She'd like to meet with us first," Nolan says.
I climb out of bed but look back at Eli to make sure he's okay with what's happening.
He's absolutely adorable with his hair all over the place and the wrinkles from his pillowcase marking one cheek.
"Do you need anything right now?" I ask before I leave the room.
"I gotta pee," he whispers, as if he's telling me a secret.
"That's your bathroom," I tell him, angling my head toward the door to the far left. "Just make sure you wash your hands after and brush your teeth before coming down."
He pulls in a deep breath as if it takes a lot of bravery to climb off the bed and take care of his needs, but I don't intervene. As he goes into the bathroom and I leave the room to go to Nolan's bathroom to take care of my own needs, I wonder if that's the wrong choice. Should I be holding his hand and assuring him that it's okay to do these things? Am I throwing him to the wolves, so to speak, by putting him in the position to do things for himself?
Nolan keeps his distance as I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and change into yet another set of donated clothes from Zara.
He meets me in the hallway, as if he feels a need to stand between his bedroom door and Eli's.
"Is he safe here?" I ask, wondering who he feels the need to protect our son from.
"Yes," he answers swiftly, without hesitation. "I was waiting to make sure he didn't need anything. Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," I say, worried I may not like the therapist, but unsure if I have a right to voice my opinion. I know that's coming from trauma associated with my time under Damien's control.
I keep my eyes locked on the pretty blonde woman as I descend the stairs. She has her eyes down, locked on the screen of a tablet, but she quickly looks up with a soft smile when she hears us coming. My first instinct is to not like her at all. She's a few years younger than me, with silky blonde hair and bright blue eyes that probably have never seen any level of trauma or pain. She seems untouched by the evil things life has to offer to many of us. Maybe it's jealousy more than anything that I'm feeling.
Nolan gives her a smile, but I see that it doesn't reach his eyes, and I feel a little better somehow.
Was I worried he'd look at her and see someone who is screwed up from their past and be attracted to her?
I pull in a deep breath.
"Hi," she says as she stands and holds her hand out. "I'm Dr. Caitlyn Rudd. Feel free to call me Caitlyn. I'm not very formal. I'll ask Eli to call me Miss Caitlyn."
"Aspen Ga… Just Aspen," I offer, adding getting my name changed as soon as I get a chance to my laundry list of things needing to be done.
We shake hands and she dips her head down to indicate her tablet before speaking again.
"I was just getting Eli's profile set up. I use a digital filing system, but everything we speak about and his case notes are completely confidential."
I nod in understanding, unsure if what she just said even requires a verbal response.
"If we could go over a few questions I have before I meet with Eli, that would be great."
Nolan directs us to sit on the sofas.
"What are some of Eli's favorite toys to play with?"
I feel like the worst parent in the world because I don't know how to answer that question.
"I don't know," I tell her honestly. "I don't know how much you've been told, but I haven't had the chance to be a regular mother to Eli for years. There were... circumstances."
She gives me a soft smile, and I don't see a hint of judgment in her eyes at all. It makes me feel a little relief with my confession.
"That's okay. Kids are pretty good at letting us know what they like. Therapy with such a young child doesn't look like you may think it does. They aren't expected to come in and immediately start talking about their problems. They may not even realize they've suffered a trauma. Research has shown that a more playful approach helps. We'll play games and such, but there will be a therapeutic edge to all of it. This allows kids to feel safe, which in turn helps them to speak freely so we can get to the root of their issues."
"So we need to find out what his favorite toys are to make this work?" Nolan asks, as if he is rooted in solving problems he can physically take care of.
Caitlyn points to a bag to the right of the sofa she's sitting on. "I brought some basics, but I can provide a list of things that would help in therapy. It's good for him to play with the same things he does with me while he's with you guys. This way he can open up and speak to both of us."
"So his whole life is going to become a therapy session?" I ask, feeling overwhelmingly more like a failure.
I blow out a harsh breath, needing to take a moment. This isn't about me, but I don't want Eli to feel like he's always under a microscope.
"No," she says with an easy smile. "This isn't therapy for Eli. By that I mean he isn't going to see it as therapy. He's going to play, and we'll listen. I'll ask some questions that help us get to the root of his fear and trauma but it won't even resemble therapy. I may give him a broken toy to see how he deals with frustration, and we'll fix it together. Kids are super resilient in everything they do. We just need to find out what he feels like he's been missing and we can fill those holes."
"Okay," I answer.
"I'm ready to meet him if you guys are ready to move forward," she says with more patience than I think I've ever witnessed in my life.
"I'll go get him," I tell her.
I feel like an outsider as I hear them talking softly as I make my way up the stairs. I vow not to let my personal feelings get in the way of her helping my son.
Eli is sitting on the bed when I open his bedroom door. He isn't crying, but I can see how startled he looks by my intrusion.
"Would it be better if we knock before coming in?" I ask, realizing he may have never had much privacy before.
But then I wonder if that's the right thing, which also makes me wonder how long I'll be second-guessing myself where he's concerned. I don't want to cause more issues, but I also don't want him to feel as if he's being neglected. Shit, maybe I need to see if Miss Caitlyn does therapy for adults as well.
He doesn't answer me, and I can see that he thinks it's a test that he will fail no matter what answer he gives, so I make the decision for him.
"What about a secret knock?" I ask, squatting down in front of him. "So you know it's me?"
A tiny smile transforms his adorable face.
"Like this," I say, knocking three times on the footboard before tapping my fingernails rhythmically.
His smile grows wider.
"Do you have it memorized?" I do the sequence again, smiling when he nods.
"Like this," he says, mimicking the actions.
"That's perfect. Let's head downstairs. There's a friend down there I'd like you to meet."
He slowly gets off the bed, but he's in no rush as he crosses the room toward the door.
"What will I be doing?" he bravely asks as we look down at Nolan and Caitlyn from the top of the stairs.
"I think you're going to play. Maybe color," I tell him.
"Will there be trains?"
"I don't know," I answer, making a mental note to buy the kid every train in existence if it makes him happy.